


Body Language

by songofproserpine



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Bickering, Bodyswap, M/M, Makeouts, No Beta We Die Like An Overused Pen, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:46:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24104629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofproserpine/pseuds/songofproserpine
Summary: A strange spell makes Akira and Goro swap bodies, and so they have no choice but to figure out how to get back to normal. As if anything between them could ever be called "normal."
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 6
Kudos: 173





	Body Language

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hackercatz (tsunbrownie)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsunbrownie/gifts).



> not beta'd because i'm tired and i just want this out. i'll spruce it up later.

Akira flexed his new hands and smiled, turning them over back to front. "Not bad," he said, twisting his hips and taking a good look at his body. His new body that was, technically, only his by accident. That didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy it, though.

Goro scowled, and soon that drew Akira’s attention, too. _I’m looking at someone else making me pout. Weird._

“Stop doing that.”

Akira lowered his arms. They were a little longer than his _other_ arms, his original arms, but their hands were about the same length. “Would it kill you to have a little fun?” How else were they going to handle finding themselves temporarily trapped in each other's skin?

At least, Akira hoped it was temporary. He didn't think he had it in him to go around pretending to be Goro for the rest of his life, let alone for a single day.

Goro shook his head. “How could I possibly have fun at a time like this?”

Akira shrugged. “Don’t you think this is kinda cool?”

“No.”

 _All right, then._ “Okay, well… then just try to relax. Futaba said it should wear off soon.”

Goro, naturally, would rather put up a fight than be convinced. “And what, exactly, would she know about this?”

“Probably more than you would think--”

“--and probably less than you would hope.”

Akira rolled his eyes. “You don’t always have to argue with me, you know.”

“So stop arguing with _me._ I’m making perfectly acceptable points that you refuse to heed.”

“Look, I get you’re freaked out about this--”

“I am not.”

“But it wouldn't kill you to trust me."

A muscle in Goro’s face twitched. Akira could feel it flicker under the new skin he was in, as well as the increase in Goro's heart rate, too. He thought of telling Goro to knock it off, but scraped his teeth along his cheek instead.

Why should he waste a chance to figure out when Goro was lying? He wasn’t a bad liar--quite the opposite, honestly--but Akira could only get by with a careful observation of the boy's tells. Blank eyes and tighter lips. Terse words that spilled out with a little too much ease and rhythm. Now that he was inside Goro’s body, the tells were much easier to pin down. Tightened shoulders, a pang rippling through his chest, a numb tingling in the tips of his fingers. And that heart, so fast, so quick, like a prey animal running itself ragged to avoid the teeth at his heels.

Ever the idiot slightly afraid of conflict--at least as far as his teammates were concerned--Akira sighed and ran his fingers through his smooth, soft hair. “Look. I’m not happy about… whatever this is either. But getting on each others’ nerves isn’t going to make it go away.”

Goro's brows cinched over. He tilted his head and brought his hand to his chin in a telltale thoughtful look. “Oh, I wouldn’t rule that out.”

“What do you mean?”

“An increase in heartbeat and blood pressure could very well speed up the healing process, similar to when a body sweats to force out an illness." Goro nodded, not waiting for Akira's response, and lowered his hand. "I suggest we find some way to test this hypothesis.”

Akira didn’t like the sound of that. Not because he didn’t like the idea of working up a sweat with Goro, but he didn’t really want to do it _here,_ in a Safe Room, when the other Thieves could walk in at any time. They had gone off to track down and hold up a Shadow hoping for an answer, or even an item to heal whatever spell had been cast on him and Goro, but there was no telling when they’d be back.

Akira pushed his hands against his thighs, but found only empty air instead of pockets. “Can’t we just sit here quietly and wait for it to wear off?” he asked.

“No.” Goro approached Akira with quick, steady steps and tapped his pointed boots against Akira’s shin _._ “Stop stalling.”

“You can’t seriously wanna fight.” Akira curled his foot around Goro's ankle and tried to tug him off balance. “I mean, it’ll be fun to ask why you’re hitting yourself, but I really don’t wanna risk knocking out a tooth or breaking a finger. I want my body back just as I left it.”

He should have known Goro wouldn't let the topic go that easily. “I didn’t think you would back down from a chance like this. When did you grow so content with being quiet and well-behaved?”

_When some Shadow’s spell went wonky and made me swap bodies with you._

_When I have to stand here and look myself in the eye and hear my own voice talk to me and know it_ isn’t _me._

_When I like the way I can get under your skin literally now instead of just figuratively._

“Let's cut a deal," Akira said. "I go along with your experiment as long as you come up an idea that doesn't leave us covered in bruises.”

Goro smiled. It was a crooked quirk of the lips, toothless and loose lipped. His head was dipped down just enough to half hide his eyes beneath the thick, dark waves of his fringe.

Akira’s heart tripped in mid-beat. He wasn’t sure if it was his reaction or Goro’s; whatever thread ties their bodies together made it hard to tell the difference. _Is that how I look when I smile?_

"What?" he asked, his voice suddenly weak. Goro didn't have another idea already, did he? Fuck, that was quick.

“Do you really need me to say it?” Goro asked. His voice was low enough that he might as well be purring. He lowered his gaze to Akira's lips and opened his mouth just enough for his tongue to flick out and run long his bottom lip.

 _Well that wasn't_ _subtle_.

“Guess not.” His words, Goro’s voice. _Goro’s voice._ Velvety, yes, but with a hidden sharpness lurking beneath, ready to tear through and wound.

Goro took hold of Akira’s chin and stroked it, held it tight. His thumb and first finger pinched the skin hard enough to make it seem like Goro’s hands were shaking from the grip and not his nerves.

Their kiss was nothing like Akira had imagined, mostly because he couldn’t overlook the fact that it was his tongue entering a mouth that was his and yet not. They kissed again, and again. At some point, Akira wrapped his arms around Goro’s waist and took a hard grip on his ass-- _my ass? Our ass?_ It was a move that prompted Goro to cup Akira’s face in his hands and slide his tongue into his--their--mouth. Akira quickly countered with a sharp bite into Goro’s bottom lip. He pulled on that pale pink strip of flesh, and Goro moaned, actually _moaned_.

They both stopped. Akira had never heard Goro moan before, not like this. His voice, usually so thoughtful and controlled, was now weak and raw, vulnerable, splitting down the middle between pleasure and pain.

Akira skimmed Goro’s bottom lip with his teeth and grinned. “Do that again,” he whispered, his voice dark and demanding.

“No.”

“C’mon. Be nice.” Akira flicked his tongue into Goro’s mouth, drawing out a whimper. Still, stubborn as always, Goro refused to let out the sound Akira so wanted to hear.

Akira seized the back of Goro’s head and let out a husky laugh. “That wasn’t a suggestion. That was an order.”

“Make me,” Goro hissed.

“You asked for it,” he said, and set about doing just that.

The spell had mostly worn off by the time the Thieves came back. He was mostly back into his own body by then, but still felt a faint lingering presence that wasn't quite him.

“What’s the damage?” Akira asked, straightening out his gloves and desperately hoping his lips weren’t as kiss swollen as they felt. 

Futaba tapped her chin with her fingers. “You’re mostly back to the way you should be,” she said, assessing them with care. “Your features are a little tilted and your eyes look funny, but it should all be fine by the time we get to the top of Mementos.”

“Great.” Akira pushed his hands into his pockets and made note of their tight fit. He’d have to talk himself down from the hard on then work himself back up to it later. There was nothing weird or wrong with that--not that Akira hadn’t divulged in his own weird and maybe a little wrong fantasies from time to time. Fantasies about Goro and daggers and guns and pulling him into some narrow alley in Kichijoji and seeing how fast it would take to get him to come. Fantasies about fucking him raw where anyone could stumble on them, an act that would show Akira living up to his delinquent status and drag the precious Detective Prince down to his own level. Just a little bit. For a little while.

Goro didn’t look at him for the entire trip back up to the surface, so naturally Akira did his best to return the favor. It was only when they climbed the last set of elevator steps did Goro give him any attention again, seizing him by the arm and pulling him back.

“Keep Leblanc unlocked when you get back,” he hissed, low enough for no one else to hear. “I’m coming over tonight.”

Akira raised an eyebrow and fought off a smile. He failed, and so turned his grin into a leer. “I’ll make a fresh pot of coffee,” he said. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Goro huffed and snatched his hand away as if burned. He didn’t turn around when he answered. “You can trust me.”

Goro arrived exactly fifty minutes after Akira returned home, and about three minutes after Sojiro left for the night. Akira wondered if he’d timed his arrival to the minute.

He slid the cup of coffee across the counter for Goro’s waiting hands, and thought of teasing him about it, but was cut off when Goro reached into the pocket of his coat and placed a silver flask right next to his mug.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Scotch whisky,” Goro said, unscrewing the cap and tipping a generous portion into his coffee.

Akira reached up and fiddled with a strand of hair. Nervous habit. Eager habit. “Hand it over here,” he said.

Goro didn’t hesitate. They met eyes across the bar and took a sip together. Akira’s throat burned the same way it did when Goro kissed him, and he savored the ache.

Eventually, Goro cleared his throat and laid his hands down on the counter. He looked away. “So. About what happened.”

Akira took another long swig and felt the burn slide down his throat into his chest. “What about it?” he asked, his voice wet and thick.

Goro’s fingers curled towards his palm, making a loose fist. Akira thought of reaching out and prying those fingers apart wide enough to slip his own grip in between. He thought better of it.

“What we did… what we _had_ to do…” He trailed off, struggling for the words.

That wasn’t like him. _Spit it out_ , Akira was desperate to say. It was the only time he wouldn’t want Goro to swallow. “I’m listening.”

Goro shot Akira a look, then paused. He held his eyes there. Held it, held it. “Does that mean we are… that you’re…?”

 _Ah._ Well, he was bound to come out to Goro sooner or later. The Thieves all knew--he’d turned down some of the girls by now, and his consistent indifference to Ryuji’s relentless prodding about his type of girl hopefully made Akira’s preference loud and clear. No such opportunity had happened for Goro yet, their recent, ah, _experiment_ notwithstanding.

“I’m gay,” Akira said without hesitation. Was it just his imagination or did Goro’s eyes light up at that? “You don’t have to tell me what that makes you if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t.”

“Fine by me.” Akira handed Goro the flask and watched him drink almost half of it..

“And as for your other question… about what it makes us,” he began, watching the way the apple of Goro’s throat shifted as he swallowed. _Fuck._ “It means we’re... something. Hell if I know what that is yet.”

Goro all but shoved the flask into Akira’s hand. Maybe that was an excuse to brush their fingers together. Akira wasn’t sure; his head was starting to feel fuzzy, his lips tingly. “Finish it,” Goro commanded.

“Nah,” he said, licking the liquor off his lips. _Now_ he was sure Goro perked up in his seat. He almost did it again, just to see if he could get Goro to gasp or whimper, but didn’t think he could get away with it and blow his cover. “You look like you need it more than I do.”

Goro let out a snort and held out his hand for the flask. Akira handed it over and watched as Goro brought it to his mouth and fit his lips over the exact same spot where Akira’s had been. They gazed at each other, never blinking, never wavering, and soon the burn Akira felt bloomed in his chest seemed to seep out into the air between them.

Akira hissed just as Goro pried his lips off the flask with a wet _pop._ He threw the now empty flask on the ground and darted forward over the bar, grabbing Akira by the collar and dragging him into a hard kiss.

Before Akira could give back as good as he got, Goro grabbed his hair into a fist and yanked him out of the kiss. "And _y_ _ou_ looked like you needed that," he shot back. He even smirked, the bastard.

But Akira wouldn't let him gloat for long. "Not as bad as you do," he countered, and closed his mouth over Goro's before he could argue again.


End file.
